The Importance of Being Maurice Boscorelli
by LivLuv
Summary: Bosco writes in retaliation to a list of complaints he has recieved from an anonymous source.


The Importance of Being Maurice Boscorelli

or

A Letter Written in Response to a List of Disgustingly Specific Complaints Made by an Anonymous Person or Group of Persons

…

You don't know me. You think you do, but you don't. 

You think I'm tough. You think I _like_ being tough, just for the hell of it. Well, that's not the case. That's just the cop side of me. See, if I decided to be all nice and feely out on the street, what kind of idea do you think the criminals are gonna get? Exactly. 

And it's not a good thing, them thinking you're weak. They begin to underestimate you, which most people in my position might actually think is a good thing. Those people are the guys who figure that if your enemies don't know your true strength, how the hell could they gonna overpower you? But if it's like that, it's not real. When those guys who think that way do bring these guys in, it's like they haven't really done anything. You have to face your problems like a man, with all the stuff you got in you. None of this pansy, if-he-don't-know-me-he-can't-get-to-me stuff. That's a load of shit. 

When I'm out there, I'm real with the guys I'm cracking down on. And sometimes, when the situation calls for it, I've learned you gotta play their game, too. If one of them threatens me, I'm not gonna stand there and not say anything back. And if one of them throws a punch in my face, I'm sure as hell not gonna take that lying down. In fact, I'm gonna kick the son-of-a-bitch's ass.

Now, let's move on. We've covered 'toughness', so next is… 'arrogance'. 

All right, so you think I'm arrogant. And I say, damn right I am! But it's not like the way you think it is. I mean, with all the good I do for this country, I have every right to be. Let me tell you, if you were out there, doing a bunch of crap for the people of the good ol' U.S. of A., you would be arrogant too. 

I risk my life all the time for a bunch of complete strangers who, chances are, will forget my name the second I'm out of their sight. And it's not like I get any credit for any of this stuff. Sure, with the department, but what about with citizens? With all the shit me and my fellow officers are doing out there, we should all be higher than movie stars! Hell, their movies should be about us! 

And God knows I wish I could just live like Paris Hilton and sit on my cute little tush all day long doing absolutely nothing, collecting all sorts of fans and fame just 'cause I'm tall, blonde, and really, _really_ hot, not to mention a load of inheritance money because my family owns a huge hotel chain. She has it so damn easy. And it's not like any of that really matters when you think about it, does it? A hotel chain, beauty… She isn't out there bustin' her ass off for the common good of New York City. If she can sit around all day and be happy not doing anything for anyone but herself, than I say good for her. Not all of us have to actually be useful in this world. And besides, I'm totally content not having a sex tape of me out there in heavy rotation for the perverts of America, thank you very much.

And on to 'stubbornness'.

Okay, if looked at in the right light, is stubbornness really _that_ bad? I guess it can be sometimes, but only then. Stubborn… Yeah, so what if I am? If I wasn't stubborn, you can bet that about half of the things I do out there during my shift wouldn't happen. Stubbornness is just a dirty word for 'sheer will', and it takes sheer will to do most of those things. 

It takes sheer will to chase some stupid shoplifter down the streets. I mean, I could always say 'what the hell' and let her go. I mean, it's only a pair of shoes, right? Well, it is at first, but then she'll start getting cocky, go for something bigger. Like maybe… a car? 

It takes sheer will to arrest somebody. I could always let this guy off with a warning for drunk driving. He's whined and squirmed enough for one evening, hasn't he? Well, how long do you think it's gonna be 'til he runs some poor kid over? 

It takes sheer will to shoot someone. Yeah, it's dangerous, and yeah, you're hurting someone. But what's worse, shooting this guy who has his own weapon and who obviously has no reserve against using it, or waiting until he guns down about, oh, say, four or five unsuspecting, innocent people. 

Sheer will, baby. And if 'sheer will' is just 'stubbornness' spelled differently with two small words instead of one big one, then there's really no difference. So whether it really is sheer will that I have or the ability to be overpoweringly stubborn, who cares? They're both good things in my eyes.

And last but not least… what the hell? I '_sleep around'_ too much?

Where is that anybody's business but my own?! If I'm not screwing you, why do you care so much? Are you jealous? Is that it? You want me or something?

Well, I don't blame you. I do look good, don't I? By looking at my body, you'd think I workout 24-7, right? But I don't. I guess it's chasing after criminals all day that keeps me in such great shape. 

But back to the point. Yeah, okay, so I've had sex with a good number of girlfriends in my lifetime. And a good number of girls that aren't really girlfriends. Really, when you think about it, it's not that many. I mean, I haven't slept with everyone in the city of New York, popular belief aside. Some people I know would say just that. But it's not true… Even if it sure does feel like it.

Anyways, they just like to say crap like that about me 'cause the lot of them couldn't get ass if it came up and bit them. Seriously. It's obvious they all wish they were me. They don't think I do, but I know. They're all thinking, 'Damn! Why can't I look more like that Boscorelli?', or 'Shit, that guy sure gets a lot of girls…', or 'I wish I could have an active sex life like Boscorelli.', or… 

You know what, I don't even know why I'm wasting my time writing this to you. You, this person who has the nerve to complain about me and my personality. So what if I am all these things! This is me, myself, and I don't owe you any explanation. Besides, if I don't know who you are, how am I going to get this to you? _Leave it in the bush… _Why, so some random idiot can walk up and read it? I don't think so. And besides, what bush? There are zillions of bushes in the world. Maybe I should write _you_ a list of things you need to improve… say, _the ability to specify what it is exactly that you mean_?

Forget it. This is shit. It's going in the trash. And if you're watching me write this right now, you can go dig it out yourself. 

Kiss my ass,

Maurice Boscorelli

~

Author's Note: 

K, this is just sort of a test thingy to see if writing a short story is more of my style, since obviously I downright SUCK at writing novels (I can't write books—I don't have the attention span for it)… So read this and tell me what you think, okay? I'm planning to do more, though not necessarily in this style.


End file.
